You may say your last words, as a whisper
by can I have a new username
Summary: Lucian seeks out Kalista's help to pursue his revenge.


**Some things are intentionally left unclear. Hope you like it :)) **

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**You may say your last words, with a whisper**

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_Lucian and Senna had heard of the League before but didn't really care about. _

_However, when they learnt it was jack full of evil creatures, they decided they had to take care of that. In due time. _

'_First we get rid of all normal evil creatures. Then we get rid of politicians,' she declared as they rowed to the haven of all evil. _

_She wasn't much of joker, but he loved her still when she would make an off-hand comment like that. It lightened up their travels. _

'_So,' she left him to row on his own once they got to a good pace and pulled out the thick files they made for each of their targets, 'Wow, we've got a lot of work to do around here. Place's infested.' _

'_They don't call it the Shadow Isles for no reason,' he huffed in strain, as the water around the boat thickened. _

_They had seen a fair share of the Isles' horrors but never before had they gone to the root of all problems. Senna, with all her pragmatism and drive, had decided it was best they went there. The isles were inhabited, were they not? They needed to purge them clean. _

'_So, we have quite a few spectres, serial killers, ghosts, some damned souls, someone pretending to be a god…' she counted off each of their targets as he struggled with the oars. However, his mind was elsewhere. _

'_What do you think of this League,' he interrupted her distractedly, thinking out loud, 'Do you think it's just a nest of criminals?' _

'_Mhhh-m' she was still loafing through their victims' pages. _

'_I think we should check it out,' he suggested lightly, but his mind was took it very seriously._

'_AHA! I found our first target,' she exclaimed excitedly, like a child opening their presents for their birthday, 'They call him the Chain Warden. S-spooky!' _

_He laughed along with her, but his heart was heavy. There was something wrong. The League hadn't left his mind. His curiosity was piqued. _

_Little did he know the brutal way that curiosity would be sated. _

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He was drawn to her the moment she stepped onto the Fields of Justice.

She was often his opponent, finding him in the bot lane, fighting over the petty little creatures that brought the gold he needed so desperately to become powerful. The aura she exerted chilled to the bones – and got even chillier when he came to the realisation it was the souls she had welcomed under her wing taking physical form just from their sheer number.

(Sometimes, just sometimes when he couldn't concentrate on the carnage of the little money-bearing minions, he could hear tiny pleas of help.)

The Spear of Vengeance.

A spirit borne out of a human's pure lust for revenge. A primal desire which hung in the air around her and made his blood run cold, then purple hot with rage. The desire was calling him, he knew, it was inside him, a deep thick song hanging at the back of his mind, like a whisper, like a memory, always there, always yearning. He wanted it so badly.

(Sometimes he wondered if those cries were his own.)

She never made fun of him, like she did with the poor old soul Varus but he could feel her watching. What was she waiting for?

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That bastard had made his smartest move yet.

Him being in the League gave what seemed to be a dream come true to Lucian – the opportunity to kill that beast over and over again.

What he hadn't accounted for was that sometimes he would fight with him and that seeing him fake-die so much soon wasn't enough. He needed the real thing. However, he had traded that joy in service of a political Institute which had lost its way.

He was in a stalemate he put himself into.

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Much like other champions' he soon got used to the feeling of her spears going through his body, shredding muscle, tendon and dignity, getting him as close to death as possible.

She was a terrible opponent to fight against – she'd dodge everything he threw at her and then effortlessly send her spears flying to him. Even the combined power of him and his wife didn't work.

There were some darknesses that light could not penetrate, he had learnt.

If only Senna could see him now, she'd berate him for losing sight of what was right.

(Sometimes he wondered if the spear piercing his insides was the one she used to pledge people to vengeance.)

But the darkness of the Spear of Vengeance was a…

Comforting darkness.

One that promised rest.

…

It was an off day for him and Thresh was flying towards him again, in a faded repeat of something that happened what felt like years ago that changed his life and made him the shell of a man he was now. That infuriating smirk was there again, on that blasted thing he couldn't even call a face and if he could he would punch that skull off his body so hard it would fly out and the hit the top of the nexus.

But he was tired. Exhausted. His body barely moved. His mind rebelled against that but there is that you could do when your mental commands didn't quite reach his body. The chain around his waist was pulling towards yet another not-demise and all that on his mouth is a string of curses and her name – _SennaSennaSennasennasennasenna_, - said as reverently as one would say the name of a long-deceased god in a pained attempt to remind him of his own faith.

'Do you like the taste of failure so much you want to repeat it so often?' that creature taunted him, all the while flaying him effortlessly to the side.

'You little…' words were never his forte, always working against him, hurting and nipping at places no other darkness could reach.

Knowing he couldn't taunt the monster as well as it could taunt him, and that he was almost certainly going to die again (he had no energy to dash anywhere and he could barely hold himself up at that point), so instead of going down without a fight, he pointed his and Senna's pistols in the bastard's face and fired.

Of course, the shots barely nicked him, whereas that blasted scythe tore through his abdomen as easily as bread. To top it all, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of another, blurry figure coming from Thresh's side. Great.

He resigned himself to the sweet numbness of dying on the fields. Again.

'To our side!'

Apparently Kalista had had enough of him dying, as she just arrived and called to him.

Yet another time he was yanked in another direction, his body in so way rebelling against that (how long was this going to continue, him letting himself be thrust in different directions by fate with no input from his side?), and flying over away from Thresh, behind Kalista, very far away from danger, behind the turret. Once her spell wore over, he collapsed, a sigh that hid too many emotions leaving his mouth.

He was on safe grounds now.

For now.

'We will take care of _him_,' Kalista growled from the side, just as she threw a spear in Thresh's direction, jumping forward to chase him away. Even as a support, she was better than the utter failure he was.

Quickly, he fumbled through his inventory before producing the last health potion on him and gulped it down, relishing in the quick way the liquid worked through his ruined muscles, hiding wounds and burned pride.

Despite his wobbly legs, he managed to work himself up to a standing position and moved over to the lane, where Kalista was asserting her dominance. As soon as she sensed his presence, she left the minions alone so that he could resume farming. He smiled a small smile of thanks (which she barely took notice of) and fell back into the familiar pattern of minion killing. If she thought him staying back while on such low health was a good idea, she didn't voice it.

He didn't understand summoners as of late. Body-shredder Kalista weakened down to only support him?

'This game is outrageous,' he mumbled more to himself.

'We all agreed to play it.'

He started towards her.

'I didn't mean '

She stared at him, and at the same time he heard it – all those voices of the hopeless, betrayed that she had helped, that she had given power to, whose lives she had given a meaning to, - and shut up.

In a way, for mere seconds, she had given him power as well. She had helped him.

In a way, that didn't sound as bad as he thought it would.

…

The same night he returned to the sight of her standing in the middle of his room, spirits gently trailing around her body in a faded green mist, lighting up the sparse objects he'd collected over the years, and casting shadows where he'd never thought he'd see.

'What are you doing here?' he all but growled as he closed the door behind him and prepared to purge the area if worse came to worst.

Her gaze was firm and hard and unwavering, not unlike what Senna was once.

'We can pledge our service to you. You can finally have your revenge.'

A sigh escaped his lips. Heh. Very matter-of-fact. He could be like that.

'You can but it won't do a thing. The League protects him,' he muttered and then went about his evening routine, unlacing his boots and putting things away.

'He. Will. Die,' she looked at him straight on and he tried not to think of the lantern that took his beloved and he tried not to reach for the pistols and end her right there. Tried to remind himself she wasn't evil and even that she was quite like him, seeking the justice of people who had been wronged and who hadn't the power to make a difference.

'You have grown weak. You realise the mistake of joining the League now that it's too late and it's eating you on the inside,' she refused to back away from the topic and followed him, getting into his personal space, trails of mists getting into his hands and ruining his movements, demanding attention.

He wasn't jittery. At all.

And his hands weren't shaking when he pushed her away.

'Don't make the mistake of knowing me,' was the only thing he told her before roughly moving past her and going to the other side of his little room and putting some water to boil.

The mist followed but not her.

'We can't make that mistake,' her voice, however, carried on talking and for a second he entertained the thought of shooting his ears off just so these sweet ideas stopped working their way in his head, 'We hear you, Purifier. Your soul calls out to us like a hummingbird welcomes the morning. We can't shy away.'

Lucian ignored her, concentrating on his tea, trying to forget all those nights he had woken up thrashing in his bed, the name and death of that bastard on his lips again and again like the sweetest blasphemy one could ever utter.

'I do not recall calling out for you. Now please if you excuse me, I'd like my evenings with no spectres ruining them.'

And with that, he manoeuvred past her and went for his coach. It was a worn loveseat, a relic of a time long past.

She fixed her unflinching stare at him. He paid her no heed, going about his tea, making sure it's perfect the way he liked it.

Finally, she gave in.

'As you wish. Still, you need only say our name.'

And with that she was gone. Only then did a breath he hadn't realised he was holding leave his chest and his body visibly relaxed. _Now_ it was time for a nice rest.

He spent a few minutes nursing his tea, before sighing, leaving it aside and getting up to go to one of his cupboards. From it with a certain flair he produced a bottle of the darkest rum and added it to his tea.

The first sip soothed him immeasurably.

Senna's revenge was his and his only.

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_Although he knew he was second in her heart after her quest for end all evil and he was alright with that, there were moments she let go of all selfless thought and gave herself to him without caring who was in need and who needed killing. He cherished these moments however scarce they were, and they were sweeter all the more for their rarity._

_Her tiny-ness snuggled perfectly against his body and he could feel every part of her muscled body even through her thickest, purest white gowns she owned. _

_Sometimes when there was too much daylight to hunt and they dared dream of a quiet future together, she'd speak of it in the tiniest of whispers; a future with all light and no evil and all happiness and smiles, and him, him, him. Sometimes, just sometimes he let himself believe that was alright, that was what they wanted and they would be happy to live like that. _

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Sometimes, just sometimes he let himself remember that too-bright future he didn't mind imagining when Senna was alive. In such a perfect world would Kalista exist? After all, she is a consequence of all evil that's happened in a human's life. What would Senna think of her? Would she want to hunt her?

Would he succumb to evil to have his revenge? Of course not, for he'd stoop lower than the _thing_ he took his revenge on.

_However, was Kalista evil?_

…

'So, how's your failure of a life going?' Thresh made small talk as they made their way to the first tower of the bot lane.

Lucian sighed. He hated him for doing that, hated himself for working with that wretch, hated the fact they were usually assigned the same lane.

What was up with these summoners who thought it was a great idea to pit two sworn enemies to work together anyway?

But anyway, that was the verdict to his stupid decision of joining an organisation where you couldn't lay a finger on any member, _to kill one of its members. _So, he sucked it up, along with Thresh's verbal abuse, and waited for some divine revelation to strike him so that he could get out of this predicament.

However, the bastard didn't know when to stop.

'I mean, it must be pretty hard to know that you're being tossed around by life. And that you always let people fuck about with your fate.'

His knuckles were pale from the exertion forced on his fists.

'I mean remember that game where you had this shitty summoner, and you constantly flying between me and―'

'Shut your face.'

'My dear, I'm merely stating facts,' you could hear the smirk in his words.

Lucian aimed his pistols at his gleeful face and fired off the only spell he could cast now.

The match was suspended due to friendly fire and Lucian – punished.

…

_The gash on his side felt like it was tearing him apart, but the barely-there tears in Senna's eyes were like a dose of lemon juice in his wounds. _

_She never ever showed weakness. In truth, he'd only ever saw her cry when she strained so much to do something, tears would come out from the effort. And usually, she'd take any blows for him, and scold her as he might, he took care of her and she'd end up showing off her scars and not shedding one tear over the pain. _

_And even now, she wasn't crying, but he knew she would have, if she believed tears weren't a show of weakness and completely useless. _

_So he kept himself from wincing, even if she applied the salve which he hated with all his being but which worked wonders on his skin. _

_She tsk-ed and tsk-ed as she worked on closing the wound. _

'_You should have been more careful,' she whispered and for a second he wondered if she'd just let that slip without her brain actually noticing. _

_A small smile etched on his lips. _

'_I will,' he said it softly, in a whisper, careful to make his pain known._

_He quite succeeded. _

_In reality, he had blocked a hit, which, honestly, she would have probably dodged. But he didn't like to take chances with her. _

_Another point was that, he kind of, sort of, maybe, liked the way she fretted over him. Not that that would give him any suicidal tendencies, that is._

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Tears were streaming down her face when Thresh caged her in his lantern.

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'_I name my betrayer once.'_

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'Help me kill him,' he whispered and drove the spear as deep in his heart as he could.

It honestly didn't hurt as much as he expected.

The feeling was the same as when she attacked him on the Fields and he briefly entertained the thought of the pledge not working. However, when blood came gushing out was redder and more vibrant than ever before he knew. No turning back now.

No one ever noticed the tiny silvery-turquoise link between them. No one but him, and she never let him forget, he knew as he caught her eye for the hundredth time as he fell on the battlefield.

'_I name my betrayer twice.'_

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The chase was beautiful.

Kalista was a born leader and let him know she did. They had hid from the Institute's power, hiding away in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike that bastard. Finally it arrived.

He had suspected nothing and was now trying to run away, hiding, using his dirtiest tricks to escape what had already been brewing for him for centuries but to no avail. Lucian's now enhanced senses helped find him twice as easily as he usually would and Kalista easily trusted to follow his lead; like he was an extension of herself.

Once he came into view, Lucian all but let out a shriek of hatred and sprinted in his way. The Spear of Vengeance followed easily, with what appeared to be a call to arms of olden days. With a piercing spear which he knew from experience would slow him down considerably, she jumped in his direction, relentless in her hunt. The spears appeared to come from her chest. He knew her spears were solidified betrayal and she took each person's treachery as if she was the one who received it.

She had countless spears.

And those countless spears tore through the back of the vile creature. Yet, he continued to try to run away. So powerful was his intent to live.

Did he not remember how he had tricked Senna into giving away the same life force he now so desperately clung on?

Lucian tried to catch up with him but he was only with one pistol which had effectively halved his damage. However, he could feel new powers coming from his pact and was content to go on. That bastard was going down.

Thresh tried everything; he flayed, knocked them back, slowed them down in his Box, but they kept on. He was slower than them and they didn't need rest and had the patience of immortals; they were going to catch him sooner or later.

Kalista simply rained spears on him, latching them into his body until, in a flash she summoned them back to her side, mercilessly tearing at his undead flesh. That visibly slowed him down and allowed Lucian to catch up and rain blindingly white vengeance on him with his pistol more easily than before.

Spears continued to wedge themselves in his flesh.

Finally he could run no more and in a last bid to save his life he threw his chain in a random direction and pulled to the poor creature the scythe latched on. However, they needed only follow the piles of ethereal goo to find him.

Kalista had another thing in mind. She raised her hand and called to him and shouted.

'Claim what is rightfully yours!'

And Lucian was a spirit, and was then flying towards her, and was then flying towards him, and was then right next to him with his sole pistol against the bastard's head. Thresh had collapsed and was trying to catch his breath.

'Funny, I didn't think soulless bastards needed to breathe,' Lucian all but hissed.

'This―' Thresh struggled to say.

Lucian elected to ignore him.

'But that's good,' he prepped his pistol with a click, 'Cause that means you can die.'

An all-resounding boom echoed in the whole valley where the chase had taken place.

Kalista arrived and stood right next to him.

The bastard's head flew off quite some way, although not as far away as what he had imagined countless times before. The spectre's eyes followed its brief flight, unimpressed.

…

'_I name my betrayer thrice.'_

…

Hours later, they were still watching the body of that creature slowly disintegrate under the sun's blinding light.

'Is her soul free now?'

She glanced at him thoughtfully and then looked away, her eyes growing distant as she searched for the answer somewhere deep in her, in the abyss, in the place she sent everyone she wanted to punish.

'… No… Those bound to that wrecked creature suffer for all eternity.'

'WHAT?!'

'We speak the truth.'

Shock was an understatement. All he could do was stare at her, eyes bobbing out. There was no way she had just said that!

Anger was filling his insides, burning his way through his gut right up to his mouth, leaving a dry dirty and despicable taste, and his brain just wouldn't take what she was saying.

'But you promised me―'

She snapped her head up and stared at him head on, in a manner that was nothing like hers.

'We promised to kill him,' her voice was dry anger on a bloody table, 'We killed him. Our pledge is fulfilled.'

He helplessly kicked at the rubble with all the fury pent up in him; his foot went through the solid stone effortlessly. It was then that his mind came to actually grasp his current situation.

A scream escaped his throat as he fell to his knees. But it didn't matter.

She was right. And he was on his knees. Forfeit. End it. Fail. Wrong.

And those golden eyes were watching him.

Judging.

He couldn't bear even look her in the eyes.

Justice was different from revenge.

'You have forgot your pledge. You gave yourself to us. You are us now. There are more betrayers to be killed!'

She took a step towards him and in shock he realised she now held whatever he now called life in her hands.

'Or are you going back on your vows?'

She was now so close he could see the specks of gold in her previous self's eyes.

'Or are you a betrayer yourself?'

Oh, what a powerful warrior she must have been…

With a roar he fell, right next to the pitiful remains of his archenemy, sobs wrecking the surface of his body. He couldn't accept that, he just… Living an unlife with the thought of her never ever finding peace. He could have done something else, he shouldn't have rushed into something that sounded so sweet, yet didn't have any catch. He should have seen it, he should have been able to prevent it, he should have thought about that!

His hands went on to grip his head to keep it from falling over. Oh, how he wanted to just rip off those thoughts as easily as he'd tear his hair off.

'Hey.'

He looked up and she was standing there, still centimetres away from him but he didn't feel comfortable at all. He was part of her, he was hers and she was his.

The golden specks in her eyes were even more noticeable and he couldn't take his eyes off them. Still, he wasn't startled when she (or was it they?) touched his chin with a single finger, nail digging into his insensitive ethereal skin.

All his cares disappeared from his body, leaving a blunt darkness inside.

'You are us now.'

And then he knew. He knew his quest for vengeance had been wrong. He had looked for revenge instead of justice. And revenge he had got. He knew his quest will never be complete for he had called for the wrong thing. Senna would stay in eternal damnation forever.

Maybe in a few thousand millenniums that thought would not make him want to retch and tear himself into pieces.

He had failed her. He had failed to bring her peace. He had given his soul to the wrong case. And the cost was so high. Their souls would never ever meet again. They would never rest again.

The too bright future he once had of them – with all light and no evil and all happiness and smiles, and _herherher_, - disappeared in green smoke.

But.

There were so many to help. Others who wouldn't be as foolish as him.

Or equally as foolish.

Maybe in a few thousand millenniums, that thought would become comforting. At the point when he'd have forgotten her touch and would only remember the short-lived happiness of the poor spirits who give out the immortality of their souls for something as pitiful as revenge.

Kalista was looking at him with the thousands of eyes who had given up. A tiny smile was playing on the edge of their lips.

Another had joined their legion.

Lucian stood up from the remains of the bastard, and stared back. The spectres' figure turned around and motioned to go.

They followed.

….


End file.
